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She Rolled Her Own
par
Paul Heaton
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At the front door, you were greeted By a cup of silver and gold To silence visits and footsteps And the stories footsteps told And the walls were lined with paintings From friends that she's once known Above an L-shaped couch and easy chair In a living room she called home The toilet door unhinged Like no-one even cared The mirror in the bathroom That no-one could have shared The kitchen door ajar A sink of last year's dishes And not enough last year's mould If you felt like being [?] in the [?] room after dark Your day spent shining brightly when the [?] WORK IN PROGRESS
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Ton pseudo sera publié. Laisses les champs vide pour rester anonyme.
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